


The Prince in the Tower

by MedieavalBeabe



Category: Disney - Fandom, tangled - Fandom
Genre: Multi, gender bend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-15
Updated: 2014-03-22
Packaged: 2018-01-15 21:03:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1319092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MedieavalBeabe/pseuds/MedieavalBeabe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The story of Rapunzel takes a genderbend twist! The evil warlock Gothel wants to stay young forever, using a magical rampion plant, however when the plant is cultivated and fed to the pregnant Queen, Gothel knows that the new prince has the power he needs. So, he does the obvious thing and steals the baby!</p><p>Eighteen years onwards, young streetwise Flicka Ryder climbs up a tower to escape the Stabbington Sisters, only to meet Rampion, a prince whose hair has never been cut; and the two find themselves on a whirlwind adventure!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Once Upon a Thyme

Once upon a time, or thyme as some would say, given that the story begins with a plant, there was a kingdom called Haelwen; such a sunny place, and as such the kingdom’s symbol was a bright yellow sun on a purple background. Everyone was happy there. The King was a good, fair king who always listened to the problems of his people and did his best to solve them. His Queen was loving and fair and everyone in the kingdom cared about her. 

But they had no children, which made them sad for a while. Until, one day, by some miracle, the Queen found that she was expecting. The King rejoiced and so did the whole kingdom. 

However one person did not celebrate; one person who lived not within the kingdom itself but far away within the depths of the forest. The warlock Gothel cared nothing for the kingdom or the news that the King and Queen would soon have a child. What did that matter to him? The only thing he cared about was keeping his youth forever. The only way to do that was to find a special plant called rampion that flowered in the midst of the woods. Gothel had discovered that if he sang a special song to the flower, his youth was restored. 

But, to his horror, one day, all of that changed. 

In the sixth month of her pregnancy, the Queen became deathly sick and the King’s doctors informed him of the magical plant. His soldiers searched high and low until they discovered it. They picked it and brought it back to the palace, where it was boiled into a soup that healed the Queen. And, of course, its magical properties passed into her unborn child. 

A few months later, she gave birth to a beautiful baby boy; and they named him Rampion. The King and Queen adored their son, who was born with locks of soft, bright blond hair, and so did everyone else in the kingdom. But Gothel discovered what had happened and one night he broke into the nursery, hoping to cut a lock of the boy’s hair and use that to regain his youth. But the strand he cut turned brown and lost its power. So, Gothel did the natural thing.

He kidnapped the baby. 

The King and Queen were devastated and searched high and low, but their son was never found. For Gothel had him raised in a place he believed that no one, no one in the entire world, could ever find him. 

***

“Steady,” murmured Flicka Ryder to herself as she was lowered down into the throne room on a rope. Her companions, the Stabbington Sisters, were tough but they weren’t the sharpish girls in the world, and whilst they could quite easily beat her to a pulp given the chance, Flicka’s sharp wits, strong mind and quick reflexes could outsmart them any given day. She was a slender, capable girl with dark hair that she kept tied up in a high, mussed ponytail and beautiful brown eyes, a slightly pointed nose and a soft, sweet mouth that was more than capable of wit and wordplay when the occasion called for it. 

Presently, she threw up a hand to gesture that she was lower enough to reach the young prince’s crown (the one he would have been given for his eighteenth birthday, had he not been kidnapped as a baby) and the Sisters ceased to lower her. Holding her breath, Flick reached down, biting her lip. This had to be done quietly, for the crown was heavily guarded by several of the King’s best soldiers. 

“I can’t look,” muttered one of the Sisters, chewing her nails.

“If she pulls this off, it’ll be a bloody miracle,” the other agreed. 

Flicka shot them a look to silence them and then snatched up the crown. As she did so, one of the guards sneezed.

“Gesundheit!” grinned Flicka. 

“Oh, thanks,” replied the guard, blowing his nose, and then, realising, turned his head.

“Oops,” Flicka muttered, tugging the rope to be hauled back up.

“Thief!” bellowed the guards and they charged forwards, but Flicka was being pulled up rapidly like a spider on a web. Thrusting the crown into her satchel she pulled herself up through the skylight and joined her...companions. 

“They’ll be up after us soon,” she exclaimed, scrabbling to her feet. Even as she said it, a troupe of soldiers came thundering along the wall.

“Run!” Which of the Sisters said it, Flicka never found out, as she was already six steps ahead of them before they followed their own advice. The three of them hurtled along the wall, down a set of steps and along the grass, skidding to a halt as they reached the wall. Dead end. 

“Here!” One of the Sisters knelt and placed her hands over her knees. “We give ya a boost and then you help us up.”

“Right.” Flicka made to go first, but the other Sister stopped her. 

“You can go first if you leave the bag with us.”

Flicka laughed. “Yeah, I don’t think so.”

“Hey!” snarled the other. “We did this together!”

“And you guys still don’t trust me, do you?” Flicka placed a hand over her heart in mock shock. “Cuts me to the core.”

“Just give us the bag,” insisted the other. “And then help us up.” 

Flicka gave a mock sigh. “Fine!” She handed over the satchel and the Sisters helped her to the top of the wall. Flicka balanced precariously and then held her hand down to the one holding the bag. “Come on, then, if you’re coming.”

The Sister held up her arm and, with one hand, Flicka undid the buckle on the satchel strap and whipped it out of her reach. “Thanks, girls! I’ll drop you a line the next time I need something doing!”

“Ryder!” the Sisters shouted, but Flicka had already leapt down the other side. 

“There she is!” shouted a guard and Flicka turned to see a hoard of them riding towards her. Unperturbed, Flicka tossed a strand of hair out of her eyes and dived for a large shard of old bark that had broken off an oak tree during a recent storm. 

“Sorry, boys,” she called, cheerfully, darting towards the edge of the hill. “Can’t stop now!”

The guards watched in sheer fascination as she surfed down the slope. Then, one of the horses, Maxine, spurred into action and charged after her. With a squeak of triumph, Flicka reached the bottom and began to run. She was a fast runner; nineteen years in an orphanage had taught her how to be. Even the fastest horses in the world had trouble matching her, usually, although this one behind her was proving to be very well trained. 

“Jeepers,” muttered Flicka, darting behind a nearby tree for temporary refuge. “Does this mare never give up?” 

A thought struck her, and she quickly began to climb the tree. The guards on horseback shot past her hiding place and she allowed herself to breathe out. “Hallelujah,” she sighed, dangling from a nearby branch for a minute. 

Something ruffled her hair and she froze. Then, turning, she came face to face with Maxine. The horse began to tug at the satchel. 

“No!” yelped Flicka, wrestling it out of her mouth. “Leave! Bad horse!”

Where, she wondered, was the rider? Must have got thrown. Having rescued her satchel from the horse’s mouth, she leapt back onto the grass and faced the animal. A thought occurred to her and she pulled an apple from her bag. “Here, girl, look what I’ve got.” 

Maxine’s face lit up and she made to eat it. Flicka drew her hand back. “You want it?” The horse nodded. “Ok, then fetch!” Flicka threw the apple as far and high as she could manage. Maxine shot after it, caught it and snapped it up in mid air. 

“Ah!” Flicka exclaimed, taking a step backwards as Maxine turned to her again. “Look, is there any chance that you can just turn around and leave me alone? No? Ten second start? Five? One?” Maxine pawed the ground. “Oh, bullfrogs!” exclaimed Flicka, turning and running as fast as her legs could carry her. She could hear Maxine thundering along behind her and did her best to speed up. 

Over grass and moss and meadow and flower they ran, until Flicka burst through a hedge into a clearing...and stared. There, right in front of her, was a enormous, lone tower. Dangling down from a window was, what looked to be, a long, thick yellow scarf, or even a rope. 

Flicka didn’t stop to think twice. She hurtled forwards, seized the rope and then realised it was not rope, but hair. Still, she didn’t question it, well, she didn’t have time to; instead she began her ascent and made it through the window just as Maxine burst into the clearing after her. 

“Whoo!” Flicka exclaimed, leaning against the tower wall. “What a rush!”

Catching her breath, she looked around the tower. The place was as vast on the inside as the out. The walls were painted in bright colours, with all sorts of pictures. Flicka realised that she was still holding onto the miles and miles of blond hair that she had used to climb up the tower. It was incredibly thick and surprisingly soft. Flicka couldn’t resist brushing it though her fingers; it was as soft as a real fur sable. Flicka recalled that they had had a worker at the orphanage who had owned a real fur sable and once, when she was in a surprisingly jovial mood, she had let a seven year old Flicka try it on. It had been the most gorgeous thing that she had ever draped around her shoulders, and had smelt vaguely of floral perfume. Automatically, Flicka lifted the strands of hair she was holding and inhaled, not flowers, but something vaguely herbal. 

Dropping the hair, Flicka stepped further into the room and looked around. The hair was so long it wound all the way around the tower at least twenty times. 

“What kind of place have I stumbled into?” Flicka wondered. 

And then a dull CRACK on the back of her head knocked her for six. 

Flicka came to several seconds later, aware that she had been hit. She made to get to her feet and then realised that she was tied to a chair. Looking down, she realised that she had been tied up with several strands of the long blond hair. “Hey, what the hell-?” she began.

Out of the shadows stepped a young man. Flicka blinked at him. He wasn’t actually that bad looking, she decided, once you got past the impossibly long blond hair; he had large green eyes and a curious expression on his face. He was dressed in a purple tunic and trousers that were rolled up to the knees. His feet were bare. He was also wielding a frying pan and had a small green chameleon perched on his shoulder. 

Flicka shook her head to clear the lingering effect of the blow and then fixed him with a cool expression. “Forgive me if I’m wrong here, but I’d always thought that it was against the rules of chivalry for a man to hit a woman.”

The man stepped forwards and lowered the pan. “I didn’t know you were a woman. You’re not wearing a dress.”

“Beg your pardon?”

“Well, men wear trousers and women wear dresses.”

Flicka blinked at him and then laughed. “Well, where’d you get that load of old crap from?”

“It’s in all the books.”

“You need to get out more, mate.” Flicka struggled against her bonds and then frowned. “Wait.” She looked about her. “Where’s my satchel?”

The man folded his arms and looked smug. “It’s hidden in a place where you’ll never find it.”

Flicka glanced to one side. “It’s in that pot in the corner, isn’t it?”

The man’s smile faded and he looked about to raise the pan again when Flicka, quick as ever, grabbed the strand of his hair that was trailing up to him and gave it a yank. With a startled yelp, the young man stumbled towards her. Releasing his hair, Flicka grabbed the front of his tunic. “Listen, mate,” she said, in her sternest tone, “you either let me go, or it’s going to get very nasty in here. One of us is going to get hurt and it’s not going to be me. Now, untie me, give me back my satchel and let me leave, and we’ll say no more about it, got it?”

“Um...” The young man squirmed in her grip. “You’re pinching my skin.”

Flicka tightened her grip. “I mean it.”

The man sighed. “Ok, ok.” 

Flicka released him. He rubbed his chest. “You’ve got a firm grip there.”

Flicka rolled her eyes. “Like you’re the first person to ever say that.” 

He released her from the chair. Flicka rubbed her arms where the hair had chaffed. The man offered her a smile. “My name’s Rampion, by the way.”

“Yeah, sure, whatever,” Flicka muttered, getting to her feet. 

“Sorry for the way I reacted. I don’t usually get visitors here.”

“That’s obvious.”

Flicka was about to go over to the pot and retrieve her satchel when the little chameleon on Rampion’s shoulder made a soft clicking noise. Rampion glanced at her. “What is it, Pascale?” More clicking. “You think?” The chameleon nodded. Rampion looked up at Flicka. “You know where the palace is?”

“Yeah, what of it?” asked Flicka, glancing dubiously at the chameleon. 

“Well, you know about the floating lights?”

Flicka smiled. “I’m not from Haelwen.”

“Each night, on my birthday, as it happens, there are these floating lights in the sky, from the palace and the whole kingdom.”

“Oh?”

“I’ve been dying to see them up close since, well, since birth.”

Flicka raised her eyebrows. “Good for you.”

“Can you take me to them?”

“Me?”

“Yes, you!” Rampion’s eyes were alight. “Obviously you can look after yourself!”

Flicka laughed. “Forget it! I’m in enough trouble as it is. I’m not babysitting some dreamer with silk for hair!”

Rampion bristled. “I’m eighteen in a few days, I’ll have you know!”

Flicka glanced at him, sceptically. “YOU’RE eighteen?”

“Yeah.” Rampion folded his arms. “Soon. How old are you?”

“Nineteen.” Rampion’s face fell. Flicka brushed her hair out of her eyes. “Like I said; babysitting.”

She reached down to take the satchel from the pot when Rampion used his hair as a lasso to whip the pot out of her reach. The pot skidded towards him and fell. The satchel slid out and he snatched it up.

“Hey!” Flicka exclaimed, darting towards him. Rampion threw a strand of hair upwards, tying it about the highest rafter and then yanked himself upwards. “Hey, give that back, kid!” 

Rampion placed the satchel atop the highest rafter and grinned. “Come and get it.”

Flicka folded her arms. “I would if I had a rope.”

Rampion looked down at her. “I tell you what. You take me and Pascale to see the floating lights, and then afterwards, I’ll climb up here and get it for you.” 

Flicka scoffed. “Why is this so important to you?”

“Well, why is this so important to you?”

“Touché!” 

“Look, please.” Rampion fixed her with a pleading look. “After we see the lights, then you can have the satchel and you’ll never have to see me ever again. I promise. Cross my heart and hope to die,” he added when he saw Flicka looking doubtful.

Flicka sighed and ran a hand through her ponytail. “I must be out of my mind.”

“You’ll do it, then?”

“Ok, fine.”

Rampion swung down and landed beside her. “Great!” He seized her hand and shook it hard. “You won’t regret it!”

“Want a bet?” Flicka muttered. “I already am!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The characters in this are based off this pic: http://medieavalbeabe.deviantart.com/art/Tangled-421158362


	2. The Snuggly Duckling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story of Rapunzel takes a genderbend twist! The evil warlock Gothel wants to stay young forever, using a magical rampion plant, however when the plant is cultivated and fed to the pregnant Queen, Gothel knows that the new prince has the power he needs. So, he does the obvious thing and steals the baby!
> 
> Eighteen years onwards, young streetwise Flicka Ryder climbs up a tower to escape the Stabbington Sisters, only to meet Rampion, a prince whose hair has never been cut; and the two find themselves on a whirlwind adventure!

Flicka sighed as she hopped down from the tower, having climbed down Rampion’s hair until she was about a foot or so from the ground. Landing lightly on her feet, she brushed her hands together and then wiped dust from her knees. “I can’t believe I’m being blackmailed by a kid who’s not even eighteen yet!”

“Less of the “kid,” please!” Rampion called from above.

Shielding her eyes from the sunlight, Flicka looked up at him. “Well, are you coming or what? I don’t have all day.”

“Ok, ok, don’t rush me.” Taking a deep breath, Rampion leapt from the tower, swinging down from his hair and landing neatly on the ground. 

“Very impressive,” Flicka said, drily. “Now, come on.”

“What’re you in such a rush for?” Rampion asked, untangling his hair from the top of the tower. 

“Because the sooner I take you to see the “Floating Lights,” the sooner I get rid of you!”

Rampion ignored her and bent down to stroke the grass. “It’s so soft. I had no idea.”

“You’ve never left this place before?” Flicka blinked as he shook his head. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.” Rampion looked around. “I can’t believe I did this.” He laughed. “Oh, if my father could see me now!”

“I’m guessing you’d be in a heap of trouble if he knew you were out here, right?” Flicka guessed, seeing a potential way out. “Maybe we should just quit while we’re ahead.”

“No way, we’re just getting started.” Rampion looked over at a clump of trees and then grabbed her arm. “Come on, I want to explore.”

“But-!” Flicka’s insistence was cut off as Rampion dragged her along through the underbrush. “Look, the outside world isn’t really that great,” she protested. 

Rampion, however, took no notice of her. He was too busy swinging from trees by his hair. Flicka groaned. “You’d better get back down here in one piece, kid.”

“I told you to cut out the “kid” stuff.”

“Well, you’re acting like a kid right now.”

“Well, excuse me!” Haughtily, Rampion jumped down from the tree. “You’re talking to someone who’s never experience the world outside that tower in his life! Pardon me for being a little...overzealous.”

Flicka scoffed and folded her arms. “Try extremely overzealous.” She watched Rampion paddle in the stream for a while. “How come your father’s so strict about you staying in the tower all the time?”

Rampion glanced up at her. “He says the world’s full of...evil people.”

“Well, he’s right. No offence, kid, but I doubt someone like you would last five seconds out here alone.”

“But nothing’s happened to us yet,” Rampion pointed out.

“Yeah, but we’re alone here. If you went in a bar or something, you’d get in a fight in the first five seconds, I’d wager.”

“Why?”

“Because you don’t have survival instincts. You need to be streetwise. Need to know how to take care of yourself. Like me.”

Rampion smiled. “Exactly why I asked you to be my guide.”

“Look, kid, I really have better things to do that look after you,” Flicka insisted, stepping up to him. “So, why don’t we just call it a day? I mean, you’re obviously torn between seeing the lights and disobeying your father, and I’m sure neither of us want to get on the wrong side of him, so-”

“You’re not getting rid of me that easily,” Rampion interrupted, folding his arms. 

Flicka growled in her throat. “Why do you have to be so stubborn?”

“Why do YOU have to be so stubborn?” Rampion countered.

They both glared at one another, looking straight into one another’s eyes. It was a pity she didn’t wear dresses, thought Rampion, privately, she was actually rather pretty, even when she was angry. 

Flicka sighed, finally, a sigh of defeat. “Fine. You think you can survive with me? Let’s just see, shall we?”

As she stalked away, Rampion grinned at Pascale. “Don’t worry. She’ll get us there.” Pascale chattered, questioningly. Rampion shrugged. “Just a feeling.”

He followed Flicka as she marched along, and eventually, fed up of her being so far out front, he ran to catch up with her. “Hey, wait up!”

“First rule of survival, kid, slowpokes finish last,” Flicka replied. 

It was Rampion’s turn to growl. “For the last time, stop calling me “kid!” It’s Rampion!”

“Kid” suits you better.” Flicka retorted, hopping over stepping stones. Rampion tried to follow but slid on some weed. With a yelp of “Whoa-oh!” he lost his balance and landed with a thick SPLASH in the stream. “Ow!”

Flicka turned and crouched over him. “You ok, kid?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

Flicka offered him a hand. Rampion took it, gratefully, and she yanked him to his feet. “Second rule of survival, kid, look before you leap.”

Rampion didn’t even object to the “kid” this time. He sighed, squeezing water out of his hair. “Maybe this isn’t such a good idea.”

“You think?” Flicka felt a glimmer of hope. “Oh, gee, that is a shame, but if you’re sure you don’t want to do this, well, we can turn back.”

Rampion shook his head and then grinned at her. “Nice try.”

Flicka rolled her eyes. “Come on, then.” 

Passing a nearby tree, Flicka didn’t notice the Wanted poster stuck up on it...but Rampion did. “Is this you?” he asked, pulling it off the tree. 

“What?” Flicka took the poster from him. “Oh, bullfrogs! Now I’m a Wanted Girl?” With a sigh, she crumpled the poster into a ball and tossed it into the stream, with a loud PLOP! She scowled at Rampion. “The sooner you get that satchel back for me, the better.”

“Who does that crown belong to?” Rampion asked as she began to walk again.

Flicka froze. “What crown?”

“The one in your satchel.”

“You went in my satchel?” Flicka rounded on him. “How dare you?”

“Is that crown stolen?” asked Rampion. “Where’d you get it?”

SLAP!

Flicka, unable to control herself, smacked him right across the face. Rampion blinked at her, stunned and not entirely sure what he had said that had made her react like that. “Let’s get one thing straight,” Flicka said, pointing at him. “You touch my stuff again, and you’re dead. Got it?”

Rampion, stunned, nodded. “Got it.”

Flicka turned and marched onwards. Rampion breathed out and followed her. “See, this is what I mean. No one’d mess with you. You’re not scared of anything.”

Flicka glanced at him. “Even the toughest people get scared sometimes. There are thugs out there who are a lot bigger than me.” And, she thought to herself, as inspiration suddenly struck her, I know just where to find them too. Adopting a false smile, she turned to him. “Hey, I don’t know about you, but I’m starving. Fancy getting something to eat? I know just the place.” 

Rampion followed her until they reached a small country inn. “The Snuggly Duckling?” Warily, Rampion gripped the handle of the frying pan he’d brought along with him. In spite of its name, the place looked dark and foreboding. 

“Oh, yeah, they do great hazelnut soup,” Flicka insisted, pushing him forwards. 

Hesitantly, Rampion pushed the door open. Inside it was filled with several seedy-looking thugs. A man with a hook played a piano. Another, wearing a helmet that covered his face, was playing darts with a short, old man whilst a man dressed in mime make up looked on in awe. A thug with an ugly face and a big nose was scoffing down some kind of meat stew and talking to a huge man with enormous Viking horns on his helmet. As they entered the inn, all eyes turned to them.

Nervously, Rampion swallowed hard. “Hi.”

“Any chance of some soup?” asked Flicka, cool as ever. 

That did it. Within a second they were surrounded by the thugs and their weapons. “Hey!” said the man with the hook, suddenly, pointing at Flicka. “She’s from that Wanted poster!”

“Oh, bullfrogs!” Flicka sighed.

“Let’s turn her in!” said the man in the mask. “I could use the money.”

“Send someone out to get the guards!” said the one with the big nose.

“Gretta!” snapped the hook man.

“It’s Greno!” snapped another muscular thug.

“Whatever! Fetch the guards!”

“No need to be hasty!” Flicka exclaimed as the man called Greno/Gretta exited the inn. 

Rampion quickly stood in front of her, wielding the frying pan. “Back off!”

The thugs stared at the pan...and then burst out laughing. Flicka clapped a hand over her eyes in despair.

“Listen, kid,” said the hook man, putting his arm around Rampion. “First rule of survival-”

“Slowpokes finish last, I know,” Rampion finished.

“Ooh, aye?” Hook Hand released him. “Someone knows about the Laws of Survival.”

“Look,” Rampion said, “I appreciate that you want to turn Flicka in to the guards, but see, the thing is, I need her to help me get to the village to see the Floating Lights.”

“The ones they release every year on a certain day?” asked Big Nose.

“Yes! I’ve been dreaming of seeing them up close my entire life. Haven’t any of you ever had a dream?” 

“Here we go,” muttered Flicka, leaning against a table and folding her arms.

The thugs lowered their weapons and softened. “Matey,” said Hook Hand, stepping back. “We’ve all got dreams. I’d love to be a concert pianist someday.”

“I’d love to find my dream girl,” said Big Nose, dreamily. 

“I’d love to open a bakery,” confessed the one in the mask, Atilla.

“I’d love to complete my ceramic unicorn collection,” said the one called Vladimir. 

They were all joining in now. 

“I’d love to be a florist!”

“I’d love to do interior design!”

“I’d love to put on puppet shows!”

“And Ulf loves to be a mime,” added Hook Hand, indicating the man in make up, who nodded in agreement. 

All eyes swivelled to Flicka. “What?” she asked.

“Well, what’s your dream?” demanded Hook Hand.

“I don’t have one.” Flicka straightened up and began to walk. “The trouble with dreaming is that people spend too much time doing it and not enough time doing anything to make it happen. And they don’t come true anyway.”

Rampion stared at her. “How can you be so negative?”

Flicka met his look. “I had a dream once. I dreamed I had a family. Never came true. So I quit dreaming.”

Rampion turned to the others. “Ignore her. I believe that anyone can achieve their heart’s desire.”

“Mm, you may be right,” Hook Hand agreed. 

“Oh, please,” sighed Flicka, but everyone ignored her.

Then, the door swung open and Greno/Gretta hurried in. “The guards are coming!”

Hook Hand turned to Rampion. “Go live your dream, matey! There’s a trapdoor behind the bar. You two can escape that way. We’ll hold them off. ”

“Thanks!” Rampion and Flicka hurried behind the bar. Flicka yanked open the trapdoor and they both leapt down, landing in an underground corridor.

“Which way?” asked Rampion. 

“Forwards,” replied Flicka, hurrying on as the guards entered the inn above them.


	3. Keep On Running

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story of Rapunzel takes a genderbend twist! The evil warlock Gothel wants to stay young forever, using a magical rampion plant, however when the plant is cultivated and fed to the pregnant Queen, Gothel knows that the new prince has the power he needs. So, he does the obvious thing and steals the baby!
> 
> Eighteen years onwards, young streetwise Flicka Ryder climbs up a tower to escape the Stabbington Sisters, only to meet Rampion, a prince whose hair has never been cut; and the two find themselves on a whirlwind adventure!

“What did you mean, earlier?” asked Rampion as they set off down the corridor. “About your dream?”

“Don’t ask,” Flicka replied, grimly.

“But I did ask.”

“Look!” Flicka turned to face him. “I don’t want to talk about it, alright?”

Before Rampion could answer, the sound of running footsteps reached their ears. The pair of them glance at one another and then took to their heels and fled down the corridor, Rampion gathering up his hair as they went. Eventually light flashed at the end of the tunnel and Flicka sped towards it.

“Slow down!” panted Rampion.

“First Rule of Survival, kid!” Flicka reminded him as they skidded out onto a ledge beside a large dam. Hearing horse hooves behind them, Flicka turned and saw Maxine running behind the guards. “Oh, not you again!” she groaned. 

Then, from a mine shaft below, much to her horror, both of the Stabbington Sisters emerged. 

“Oh, this just gets better and better!” Flicka cried. 

“Who are they?” asked Rampion.

“They don’t like me, enough said.”

“Here!” Rampion thrust the pan at her and then lassoed a large plank of wood protruding from the dam with his hair. Flicka stared in awe and admiration as he swung across the other side. 

“Get her!” exclaimed one of the guards, starting forwards. Unable to think straight, Flicka simply lashed out with the pan, catching him a glancing blow to the head that knocked him down. Another went for her with a sword, but she deflected the blow with the pan and knocked him out too. A third soldier followed and then a fourth. 

“Note to self,” grinned Flicka, whirling the pan around in her hand. “Get one of these!”

Then she came face to face with Maxine, who was holding a sword in her mouth. “Oh, come on,” sighed Flicka, holding out the pan, menacingly, “that’s hardly fair now, is it?”

Maxine lunged at her and they quickly engaged in a pan/sword fight than ended with Maxine knocking the pan out of Flicka’s hand and down into the water below. “Ah!” exclaimed Flicka as Maxine held the sword to her throat.

“Flicka!” Rampion whipped his hair towards her. Catching her around the waist, he gave a swift yank and Flicka found herself swinging down towards the bottom of the dam. “Whoa!” she exclaimed as the Stabbington Sisters came towards her. Rampion just managed to yank her out of the way in time. Flicka leapt and landed on the wooden chute of the dam. 

Hearing a loud banging, Rampion turned to see Maxine, on the other side from them, knocking down a large plank of wood that formed part of the dam. Water gushed from the leak that was opened as the plank hit their side and Maxine began to charge across. 

“Come on, kid!” Flicka shouted, unwinding his hair from her waist. 

Maxine leapt at the same time Rampion did. She was inches away from biting his hair. But Rampion was just out of her reach. Swinging down, he skidded across a patch of water below the dam, a smooth finish. Pascale breathed out in relief. 

The Stabbington Sisters were right behind them, however, and so Rampion began to run. Flicka surfed down the chute after him. The pressure of her jumping caused parts of the dam to start collapsing as she eventually landed lightly behind him, gathered up his hair and began to run after him. The Stabbington Sisters gave chase. 

However, now that the dam was breaking, the water came rushing through in a great wave, catching up with them all; Rampion, Flicka and Pascale last. As they ran for another mine shaft, and Flicka snatched up the frying pan as it came floating towards them, a large piece of rock fell against the opening, trapping them inside. Water started to gush in through cracks in the doorway. 

“Climb up!” Flicka cried and together they climbed as high as they could before they both bumped their heads on the ceiling. Flicka jumped into the water and swam downwards, trying to feel for an opening, but in the dark it was impossible. Rampion tried to find an opening above the water that kept on rushing in, but found none. Flicka surfaced and as she did so she scratched her hand against a jagged edge of rock. “Ouch!” Shaking her hand, she looked up at Rampion. “It’s no good! I can’t see a thing!”

Rampion stared at her. “This is all my fault. I got us into this mess. Father was right. I never should have done this.” Taking a deep breath, he leaned against the wall. “I’m so sorry, Flicka.”

Flicka was about to snap at him that yes, this was all his fault, when she noticed that the boy was truly scared that they were about to die. Trying to think of something comforting to say, she landed on “You know, Flicka’s not the name I was born with.”

“It isn’t?” Rampion glanced at her. “Well, what is?”

“Eugenia Fitzherbert.” She glanced at him and then smiled. “I guess if I’m about to die, someone might as well know that.”

Rampion managed a smile. “I have magic hair that glows when I sing.”

“What?”

“I have MAGIC hair that GLOWS when I SING!” Rampion let out a gasp. “Of course! All I need to do is sing and we’ll be able to see!” Flicka stared in alarm as he began to sing in a soft, tenor voice. “Flower, gleam and glow, let your power shine...”

As they were submerged by the water, his hair lit up, like phosphorescent. Flicka almost lost breathe in surprise. Then, she spotted a small pile of boulders down below that looked easily shiftable. Together they swam down and began to move the rocks rapidly. Then, suddenly, the rocks tumbled away and water threw them out and down into a slow-moving river. 

Gasping for breath they both splashed to the bank and collapsed upon it. “Your hair glows!” exclaimed Flicka, staring at him. Her hand stung and she winced. “What kind of man are you?”

Rampion grinned. “We’re alive! We’re ALIVE!” he shouted, punching the air. Then, seeing Flicka’s cut hand, he added “Are you ok?”

“Yeah, I caught it on a rock or something,” sighed Flicka, pushing herself to sit up.

“Oh, here.” Rampion draped his hair around her hand. 

Flicka frowned. “What are you doing?”

“You’ll see.” Rampion began to sing the same song as before and once again, his hair began to glow. Flicka winced as her hand stung and then frowned as it suddenly stopped stinging. Rampion unravelled his hair and Flicka stared. There was no mark on her hand whatsoever, no trace of it ever having been cut. 

“How do you do that?” she exclaimed. 

Rampion shrugged and got to his feet. “I’ve always been able to do it.”

Flicka glanced at the sky. “It’ll be dark soon.” She sprang to her feet. “Come on, we’ll make camp and then you can tell me all about it.”

A few hours later, they sat around a campfire as Rampion explained. “Father said that when I was a baby, some people tried to cut it; people who wanted the power for themselves. But if it’s cut, it loses its magic and turns brown.” Flicka blinked at him. “See?” Rampion showed her a small strand at the back that was shorter, much shorter, than the rest of his hair, and a dull chocolate brown. “That’s why I was never allowed to leave the tower...to keep me, and my hair, safe.”

“And you’re still going to go back after all this is over?” Flicka asked, with a frown.

“Maybe. I don’t know. My father’s all I’ve got. I can’t just leave him.”

“But there’s so much more life out here then shut away in there. I mean you’ve seen it for yourself.”

“But it’s also dangerous,” Rampion pointed out. “I mean, we nearly got killed back there.”

“Yes, but the danger’s just part of the adventure!” Flicka sprang up and reached up to take hold of a low hanging branch. She swung her legs, contentedly. “The feeling you might get caught at any minute; oh!” Agilely, she swung herself up onto the branch. “What a rush!” 

Rampion smiled up at her. “So, um, are you going to tell me why you call yourself Flicka Ryder when you’re really-?”

“Don’t,” Flicka held up a hand, “say that name. I hate being reminded that that’s what I’m called.”

“Why?”

“Fitzherbert’s a family name. And my parents weren’t very nice people.”

“Why?”

“They ruled the village we lived in with an iron fist. Everyone was scared of them. They threatened anyone who didn’t do what they wanted with violence. Eventually, the townspeople got fed up and had them executed.”

“Oh!” Rampion winced. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Flicka reclined in the tree. “That’s just what I found in my adoption records three years ago. I never knew them. I was only a year old when they died. After that I was put in an orphanage in the hope I’d turn out differently.” She glanced at him, and grinned. “It worked.”

“So, why the name Flicka Ryder?” asked Rampion.

“I used to read this book when I was younger; about a woman who was kinda like a female version of Robin Hood. Her name was Flickanese Ryderton. She was just the kind of girl I always wanted to be when I was younger. Then, when I found my adoption records – we were meant to be shown them when we were eighteen but I managed to get ahold of them early, I was always a rebel – I realised that even though my birth name was Eugenia Fitzherbert, that wasn't who I was. Eugenia Fitzherbert was born to be as wicked as her parents once were...but I wasn’t. So, I took on the name Flicka Ryder...because that’s who I am. I’m Flicka Ryder.”

Rampion glanced up at her. “That crown in your bag...it was stolen, wasn’t it?”

“I was going to put it back.”

“What?”

Flicka laughed. “I never keep anything I take. I always put it back. Except for food, but then a girl’s gotta eat and people can spare a few scraps every now and again. Once I’d shaken off the guards that were chasing me, I was going to return the crown...only I stumbled onto your tower first.”

“Oh.” Rampion flushed. “Sorry.”

Flicka laughed. “It’s ok. I’ll improvise; like I always do.”

“But why steal if you don’t keep anything?”

“I told you; for the danger, for the thrill, for the rush of almost being caught.”

“Don’t you ever worry that you will get caught?”

“Please!” Flicka jumped down from the branch and wrapped her arms around her knees. “I’m too quick-witted for any of them!”

“Even if you do say so yourself?” laughed Rampion. Flicka smiled. “So, what should I call you?”

“Flicka. I hate the name Eugenia, anyway.”

“Well, I think they’re both pretty names.”

Flicka put her head on one side. “You’re a funny kid.” She ruffled his fringe. 

Rampion smiled. “Funny as in strange, you mean?”

“Got it in one.” Flicka lay down on the log and yawned. “Now let’s get some sleep. I’ll take you to the village in the morning.”

“Thanks, Flicka.” Rampion was silent for a while and Flicka thought he might have drifted off to sleep too. Then he added “But I still think you should start wearing dresses.”

Flicka laughed. “I haven’t worn a dress for fifteen years! I mean, honestly, how are you supposed to run fast in a dress?”

“I suppose you're right.” Rampion lay down. “But you’d look lovely, though.”

Flicka was silent for a while. “Thanks, Rampion.”

The day had been warm, but the night quickly plummeted into coolness and Flicka found herself trembling so much that her teeth chattered. Then, presently, she was aware of sudden warmth as something was draped around her. Looking up, she saw that Rampion had very thoughtfully spread his hair across her like a blanket. He was wrapped himself in the rest and was lying on the grass. Flicka smiled and went straight back to sleep.

“Rampion? Rampion?” 

Rampion found himself shaken awake by someone. Blinking he looked up at Father Gothel. “Father? How did you find me?”

“A father knows,” replied Father Gothel, hugging him. “Now, come on, let’s go home. This place isn’t safe.”

“No, wait,” Rampion said, sitting up. “You don’t get it.”

“Get what, lad?” Father Gothel frowned, head on one side.

“I’ve met someone.” Rampion glanced at the sleeping Flicka. 

Father Gothel frowned. “That girl’s a wanted thief. You don’t want to waste time with her, boy. Come on, let’s go before she wakes up.”

“No!” Rampion glanced at Flicka but she didn’t wake. He sighed and turned back to his father. “I think she likes me.”

Father Gothel scoffed. “She’s toying with you, boy. All women do. I told you that you should never have left the tower.” He held up the satchel containing the crown. “All she wants is this.”

“How did you-?”

“Give it to her, and I’ll bet she’ll leave you like a cat on a hot tin roof.”

“She won’t,” argued Rampion. “I know she won’t.”

Father Gothel smirked and dropped the satchel at his feet. “Fine. We’ll just see. But if she does, don’t come crying to me about it.”

“No! Father, wait-!” But his father swept away and was swallowed by the mist. “He’s wrong,” Rampion muttered, hugging the satchel. “I know he is.”

Flicka was awoken by something hot and warmth breathing on her neck. “Not a nice way to wake me up,” she muttered, opening her eyes and then she saw who, or rather what, was looming over her.

“Argh!” With a yelp she toppled off the log and landed on her behind in the grass. Rampion and Pascale woke up at once to see Maxine advancing on her. “Get back! Bad horse!” Flicka exclaimed, seizing the pan. 

“Whoa, whoa, girl!” exclaimed Rampion, running in front of the horse. “Easy, easy!”

Maxine frowned. Rampion patted her. “You are gorgeous,” he all but cooed, “yes, you are, yes you are.” Maxine softened, considerably, her ears lowering. 

“I don’t believe it,” muttered Flicka. “Now you’re a horse whisperer on top of everything else.”

“Oh, shut up,” grinned Rampion, hugging Maxine. “She’s nothing but a softie, aren’t you...” He spotted the name on her tack. “Maxine?” Maxine whinnied in agreement. “Nobody appreciates you, do they?” Maxine nodded again. “Well I think you are gorgeous,” grinned Rampion. “Now, listen, I know that you want to turn Flicka here in, because it’s your duty and all, but I kind of need her to guide me to the Floating Lights in the village, so if you could just go for twenty four hours without getting her arrested, I’d really appreciate it.” Maxine snorted. “Please?” Rampion gave her a big eyed look and Maxine softened. Then, sitting down like a dog, she offered a hoof to Flicka. 

“You have got to be kidding me!” Rampion shot her a look and Flicka sighed. “Ok, fine, I suppose we can get along for a day at least.” She shook Maxine’s hoof. 

“Is that the village?” asked Rampion, suddenly spotting it in the distance, looming over the trees.

“Yeah, that’s Haelwen,” Flicka replied.

“Well, what are we waiting for? Come on!”

The second Rampion was out of earshot, Maxine quickly delivered a swift blow to Flicka’s stomach. 

“Oof!” Flicka doubled over and then scowled at the horse. “I hate you.” Maxine snorted and then trotted after Rampion. “What am I getting myself into?” sighed Flicka, bringing up the rear.


	4. The Floating Lights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story of Rapunzel takes a genderbend twist! The evil warlock Gothel wants to stay young forever, using a magical rampion plant, however when the plant is cultivated and fed to the pregnant Queen, Gothel knows that the new prince has the power he needs. So, he does the obvious thing and steals the baby!
> 
> Eighteen years onwards, young streetwise Flicka Ryder climbs up a tower to escape the Stabbington Sisters, only to meet Rampion, a prince whose hair has never been cut; and the two find themselves on a whirlwind adventure!

Rampion looked around the village in awe. It was everything he had imagined, and more; so vibrant and lively. There were so many colours and sounds and smells...and so many people who didn’t seem to look where they were putting their feet. About three times he found himself brought up short as someone stepped on his hair, and once he even fell over because of it. In the end, Flicka had to gather up his hair for him. 

“This is ridiculous,” she said, looking around them to make sure no one was staring. “There’s too many people here for you to go running around with it loose like this.”

“So, what do I do?” asked Rampion.

Flicka glanced at his hair and then sighed. “I can’t believe I’m about to do this. Come on.” She sat him down at the side of the fountain. Kneeling up behind him, she glanced at Maxine. “Any idea where I can get some hair pins?”

To her surprise, Maxine trotted off in the direction of a nearby salon and produced from her saddlebags a gold coin. Then, picking up a packet of long hair pins in her mouth, she trotted gallantly back to them. 

“Thanks.” Flicka was impressed. “Wow. Maybe you are good for something. Ow!” Maxine had rapped her hard on the head with her muzzle. 

“Pack it in, you two,” grinned Rampion. Pascale nodded in agreement. 

“Hey, she started it,” sighed Flicka, busying herself with the hair pins and Rampion’s hair. It took a while to get it all pinned up but finally she was done. “There. Least you won’t have people standing on it all the time now.”

Rampion felt what she had done. “Are you sure I don’t look daft?”

“Um...” Flicka put her head on one side. “Should I be honest or tactful?”

“Flicka!”

“I know!” Looking over towards a man with a hat stall, Flicka whistled at him, and then beckoned him over. “Any chance of a hat that could hide this lot?”

“Hm.” The hatter put his head on one side. “Interesting. Yes, I think I’ve got just what you’re looking for.”

Now wearing a purple hat, paid for by Flicka, to cover the odd hair arrangement, Rampion got to his feet. “Thanks.”

“Not a problem,” smiled the hatter, waving them off. “Have a good day, now.”

“Well, they won’t release the lights until this evening,” said Flicka, “so, what do you want to do until then?”

Rampion took a deep breath and grinned. “Everything.”

So, everything was precisely what they did. Flicka bought them some breakfast and they ate it in the midst of all the action. They discovered a library even bigger and grander than Rampion’s tower and spent several hours there flicking through books as Rampion found all sorts of subjects he had previously read up on and showed them to Flicka. They discovered an art shop, and Rampion found some coloured chalks that he used to paint a mural on the ground alongside several young children who decided to join in. 

“Eighteen years in a tower taught you how to do that?” Flicka exclaimed, looking down at the vivid artwork at her feet. “It’s amazing!”

Rampion grinned and wiped his brow, just as a small child behind them said to a friend “Mine’s for the lost prince.”

Rampion glanced at the boy. “The lost prince?”

The boy nodded. “Yes. Many years ago, the prince of Haelwen vanished overnight when he was just a baby. No one’s ever found him. The King and Queen were distraught.”

“Poor people,” murmured Flicka, sympathetically.

They ate cupcakes as a late lunch as they hide from the guards, who, thankfully, didn’t spot them and much to Flicka’s relief, Maxine made good her promise not to get her arrested. Flicka bought them a small purple flag with the emblem of the sun on, as a souvenir, apiece. Then, when a troupe of passing musicians started to play, Rampion couldn’t resist getting the whole town up and dancing. He beckoned to Flicka, who shook her head. 

“No. I don’t dance.”

Maxine, however, gave her a shove from behind. Flicka stumbled into the dancers and Rampion caught hold of her, steadying her. Flicka glanced up at him. “No, really,” she stammered, wondering why she was suddenly so nervous, “I don’t dance.”

“Maybe it’s about time you started,” he replied, spinning her around. In spite of herself, Flicka began to laugh as they were swept up in the dance. People changed partners left right and centre in this style of dancing. As the music finally came to an end, however, she found herself once more dancing with Rampion. 

“To the boats!” someone announced, suddenly. 

Flicka grinned. “Come on, time to see the Floating Lights.”

Together, with Maxine and Pascale, they went to the docks, where the boats were being hired out. Flicka managed to secure a small one just for the three of them whilst Maxine stayed on the docks.

“Here,” Flicka said, putting a burlap sack full of apples down in front of her. “Knock yourself out.”

They clambered into the boat and as they began to row, Rampion glanced around at the water. He seemed nervous, Flicka noted. “What’s up?”

“I’m just worried.” Rampion glanced at her. “What if it’s not as special as I thought it would be.”

“It will be.” Flicka smiled. “Trust me.”

The first light was sent up from the palace, and then a million others all followed it. They lit up the sky with more brightness than all the fireflies in the world. Rampion leaned against the curved bow of the boat to watch them. Some of the lanterns came floating over the water towards them. There were so many they were uncountable, like the stars. Glancing back at Flicka, Rampion realised that she was holding two lanterns as well, already lit. She grinned at him. “Happy Birthday.”

“Where’d you get them?” exclaimed Rampion in surprise.

“There was a stall selling them; I bought them when you were distracted with the coloured chalk.” Flicka held one out to him. “Shall we?”

“Wait.” Rampion reached under the seat and pulled out the satchel. “I have something for you too.”

“My satchel!” Flicka laughed. “Were you hiding that in your hair?”

“Maybe.” Rampion held it out to her. “I should have given it to you before, I know. I was just...scared. But I’m not now.”

Flicka smiled. “I know what you mean. Come on.” She offered him the lantern. Together they lifted their hands and released them. Their lights drifted up with all the others. Rampion spotted a stray one floating low across the water towards them. With a gentle gesture, he pushed it upwards. Watching him, Flicka suddenly felt the urge to take his hand. She made to, and then, nerve failing her, stopped herself. Rampion, however, had seen her reflected in the water and he glanced at her. Flicka ducked her head, brushing her hair out of her eyes. Rampion took her hands, once again wondering how anyone as tough as her could have such small, dainty ones. Flicka met his gaze, and then, simultaneously, they both looked up at the sky. It felt...magical.

“You were right,” murmured Flicka. “It really is beautiful.”

“Yes.” Rampion lowered his gaze to her face, his heart hammering. “Very beautiful.”

Flicka met his gaze and smiled. Rampion picked up the satchel with one hand, his other hand still in hers. “I’m sorry I looked in here. Before. I shouldn’t have.”

Flicka took the satchel from him and placed it beside her. “I’m sorry I slapped you. I just...well, I didn’t know how to react. Sorry.”

Rampion smiled and took her other hand again. “Well, this has been the best birthday ever, so, thanks. Thanks for bringing me here.”

Feeling her heart melt, Flicka looked away from him. Rampion frowned. “What is it?”

“It’s just...” Flicka looked at him again. “I haven’t really been this happy for...about nineteen years.”

Rampion tugged on her hands. Understanding, Flicka sat down beside him. Rampion let go of her hands, and then wrapped his arms around her. Flicka immediately slid her arms around him and pressed her head against his chest. To say he was a year younger than her, he was, surprisingly, a little taller than her, and suddenly she felt like their roles were reversed; like suddenly she was the younger, vulnerable “kid” and he was the strong, streetwise protector. 

“Flicka?”

“Mm?”

“What are you going to do after all this?”

Flicka shrugged. “Start again. Take that crown back, and then move on, like I always do.”

“Doesn’t that get lonely?”

“Well, I’m used to it. I mean, don’t you get lonely?”

“Sometimes.” Rampion rested his cheek against the top of her hair. “I have my father, I guess.”

“But you can’t just spend your whole life locked away up there.”

He stiffened. “I’m not locked away.”

“Then why do you go up and down via the window instead of by the door?”

“There isn’t a door.”

Rampion hadn’t actually ever questioned it before; his hair had always been grown long, so Father Gothel had always said they might as well use it to get in and out of the tower. 

“And you never asked why?” Flicka raised her head and looked up at him. “Did you really think it was just so that he could protect you from the world?”

“Well,” Rampion shrugged. “What other reason could there be?”

Flicka bit her lip and then shook her head. “No, maybe you’re right.” She smiled and Rampion returned it. All nerves died as they looked at one another.

“You know,” said Rampion, slowly, “you could come and visit me...sometimes...”

Flicka nodded, slowly. “I’d like that...”

Rampion cupped her face and leaned towards her. Flicka was about to close her eyes when she spotted something that made her heart sink. 

The Stabbington Sisters were standing on the opposite shore.

Flicka dropped her gaze and pulled away. Rampion frowned. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Flicka picked up her satchel. “There’s just something I have to do.”

Draping it over her shoulder, she felt a fluttering of nerves inside her and she picked up the oars. Rampion blinked at her. “Are you ok?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” Flicka hoped that she sounded convincing as she rowed them to the other side. “Just one small thing.” Reaching the shore, she pulled the boat up and hopped out. “Wait right here; I’ll be back soon.”

She hurried off before he could even reply. Darting into the clump of trees she had seem them emerge from, she faced her former partners. “Alright, here. Take it.” She held out the crown. “I don’t even want it anymore.”

“Well,” said one of the Sisters, taking it from her. “That’s very generous of you.”

“But, I’m afraid,” said the other, walking around behind her, “we’ve got bigger fish to fry.”

Flicka turned to her, with a frown. “What are you talking about?”

The only answer she received was a smirk and then a resounding crack on the back of her head. “Oh, come on!” Flicka groaned, before she slumped to the floor, out for the count yet again.


	5. Truth Will Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story of Rapunzel takes a genderbend twist! The evil warlock Gothel wants to stay young forever, using a magical rampion plant, however when the plant is cultivated and fed to the pregnant Queen, Gothel knows that the new prince has the power he needs. So, he does the obvious thing and steals the baby!
> 
> Eighteen years onwards, young streetwise Flicka Ryder climbs up a tower to escape the Stabbington Sisters, only to meet Rampion, a prince whose hair has never been cut; and the two find themselves on a whirlwind adventure!

Rampion glanced at Pascale. “You don’t think anything’s happened to her, do you?” Pascale looked worried and then shook her head. Rampion sighed. “I hope you’re right.”

Then, he saw a shape coming towards them out of the shadows and breathed out. “So, there you are.” He got to his feet. “I was beginning to worry. So, what exactly-?” 

He broke off as the shape merged into two figures and then he found himself staring face to face at the Stabbington Sisters. Automatically, he gripped the handle of the frying pan. “I know you two. You were after Flicka. Where is she?”

“She took the crown and left,” said the one with the eyepatch.

Rampion blanched and then laughed, nervously. “You’re lying. She wouldn’t do that.”

The other Sister grinned and waved a hand at the water. “See for yourself.”

Rampion glanced at the river, not expecting to see anything, but he quickly dropped the pan in shock. It landed on the eyepatch Sister’s toe and she let out a yelp of pain and began to hop up and down. Rampion ignored her, staring. A small sailing boat was making its way back towards the village...and he could make out the silhouette of Flicka at the wheel.

“Flicka?” Rampion blinked and then started forwards. “Flicka! What are you doing? Flicka!”

Flicka appeared to ignore her. Rampion felt his heart twist. She had betrayed him. How could she have done that? Just when he had thought they had reached an understanding? Even watching her sail away, a part of him tried to deny what he was seeing...until he felt one of the Sisters grip his shoulder. 

“Fair trade, don’t you think?” she sneered. Rampion turned to her and gulped. She was a lot taller than he was, and far more muscular too. “The crown for a man who has magic hair?”

Pascale’s jaw dropped. The other Sister had recovered from her injury and now strode up to him. “How much do you think people will pay to stay young and beautiful forever?”

Rampion took a step backwards, bumping into the bow of the boat, trying hard not to feel afraid, as well as betrayed. “What are you going to do to me?”

“What do you think?” the first Sister asked the other. “Maybe lock him in a cage? Wheel him through sideshow fairs and freak shows? We’d make a lot of money.”

Her Sister merely grinned and produced a large burlap sack. “As long as he does what he’s told and keeps quiet on the way.”

“No, wait,” began Rampion, stumbling back so much that he actually fell into the boat. “Maybe we can come to some kind of arrangement..?”

The Sister came towards him, sack raised, when something knocked the eyepatch Sister around the back of the head and she clattered to the ground, unconscious.

“What?” The other Sister turned to face their attacker and then stared. “Hey, wait a sec-!”

Father Gothel whacked her in the midriff with a large branch, and when she was doubled over, he knocked her out cold too. 

“Father?” Rampion blinked up at him.

“Come on, my boy.” Father Gothel offered him a hand and helped him out of the boat. “Oh, Rampion, my son, what have you got yourself into?”

“How did you-?” Rampion gestured to the Stabbington Sisters.

“Well, after our row, after I stormed off, I realised that it probably wasn’t the best of moves leaving you alone with that thief girl...so I went back to the spot, but you’d gone. Then I followed your footprints to the village...and after I came here, I saw them attacking you. I had to do something.” 

Rampion looked over his shoulder at the water. “Did you...did you see..?”

He gestured wildly over his shoulder. “Oh, lad,” sighed Father Gother, pulling him into a one-armed hug. “You’ve really been shaken up by all of this, haven’t you?” He looked around. “Where’s the thief girl?”

“She...” Rampion glanced at the water as the sight of Flicka sailing the ship vanished into the mist. “Left.”

“Well, thank goodness before she did anything to you. Now, let’s go. I may have been able to knock them down once, but they’re still a lot stronger than I. Come on.”

He started off and then realised that his son wasn’t with him. He turned. “Rampion? What is it, lad?”

Rampion looked at him, and Father Gothel didn’t miss the single tear that ran down his cheek. Rampion took a deep, brave breath. “You were right, Father.” He stepped up to him. “You were right about her.” He smiled. “What was I even thinking, getting mixed up with a girl like her, thinking that she could actually...like me?”

Father Gothel patted his shoulder. “I know, boy. Heartbreak is always hard. Now, come on home.” 

Rampion followed him all the way back to the tower. Once there, Father Gothel glanced at him. “Now, do you see why I kept trying to warn you about the world outside our tower?”

“Yes, Father.”

“It’s the only safe place there is.” 

Rampion nodded, glumly, and was silently as he climbed back up into their home. Once inside, Father Gothel helped him take down his hair from the complex arrangement that Flicka had made of it and handed him the hat. “There. Now, we’ll say no more about this little incident, alright, although I am very disappointed in you, Rampion.”

“I know, Father,” sighed Rampion, starting up the stairs. 

His father softened. “As I said, we’ll say no more about it. Now, if you like I can bring you your tea in your room, if you don’t feel like coming to the kitchen just yet.”

“Thanks,” Rampion said, walking into his room. Like most of the inside of the tower, the walls and ceiling were painted all over with various murals, the products of many days spent in idleness. Rampion sat down on his bed, fingering the hat. Pascale slid down his arm and patted his hand, comfortingly. Rampion sat in silence, feeling like he could cry all over again. 

“How could she do it?” he said, finally to Pascale, who raised her head, questioningly. “How could she just betray me like that...without feeling an inch of guilt? I mean...I thought on the boat...we shared something special. I mean...” he broke off, remembering the feel of her hands in his. How surprisingly soft, slim and small they had been, to say that she had had a rough living. “It was real...I was sure it was. I thought that she felt the same way.”

Feeling about in his pocket, he found the small purple flag she had bought for him. “But...she was just leading me on.” Pascale, looking shocked, shook her head, trying to reassure him that that wasn’t what had happened. “It’s true.” Rampion sighed and flopped back onto the bed, clasping both flag and hat to his chest. He closed his eyes. “I guess she’s good at that, given what she does for a living. I bet she was lying about giving things back after she’d stolen them. What kind of thief just steals for the thrill?” 

A tiny, nagging voice inside his head told him that Flicka did just that. He tried to ignore it. 

“I guess she can’t escape from her past...always running.” He sighed, hating himself for telling himself such vicious things about the girl he...what? Liked? Really liked? Possibly loved? Even as he lay there, eyes closed, holding what she had bought for him, he suddenly longed to have her back in his arms, the warmth of her, the scent of her hair, the feel of her hands on his back as she hugged him. 

Presently, he opened his eyes and held up the flag. The sun emblem glowed golden against the purple...sun? 

Lowering the flag, Rampion frowned up at a certain mural on the ceiling. Slowly sitting up, he realised that between the gaudily painted shapes and patterns was a bare patch of ceiling...shaped like a small sun...emblem. 

Pushing himself up straighter, Rampion felt his breath catch in his throat as he spotted another one. And another. And another. Millions of the small emblems peering out from amongst the paint on the walls and ceiling, surrounding him completely. Surely that was too strange to be a coincidence? They all seemed to glow at him as he stood up, and then, he felt his head filled with sudden, long forgotten memories. 

A mobile, dangling above him, with a sun emblem painted on it in bright gold. Where was he? In a cradle, he realised. Blurred faces peered over him. He blinked and they came into focus. A man and woman, both wearing crowns, and smiling down at him...and then the woman picked him up with a great smile on her face...and he felt the man’s soft hand stroke his head. 

Then, suddenly, in his mind, he saw himself that day that Flicka had climbed up to his tower; after he had knocked her out and tied her up, he had discovered the crown in her satchel...and tried it on. It seemed to suit him...somehow.

Then, another memory, a more recent one; a small boy mentioning “A lost prince.”

The sun emblems...the crown...the people...they had to be his parents...with a sudden gasp of shock, Rampion stumbled backwards and bumped into the chest of drawers, knocking a lot of knick-knacks and various other items off it with a loud clatter. 

“Rampion?” Father Gothel looked up towards his room at the noise. He frowned. “What’s going on up there?”

Breathing heavily, Rampion straightened himself with another gasp. Those people...they were his parents...and they were...the King and Queen of Haelwen...and he had subconsciously woven the sun emblem into his paintings without even realising it. 

“Are you alright?” Father Gothel started up the stairs. “Rampion? What was that crash?”

Rampion found his balance, and as he hurried towards the doorway, he found his voice too. “I’m the lost prince,” he whispered.

“Oh!” Father Gothel sighed, irritated. “Please speak up, Rampion; you know how I hate it when you mumble?”

“I’m the lost prince!” Rampion shouted, so loudly that anyone passing by would have died of fright. “Aren’t I?” he added, in a calmer but still relatively clear, tone. Father Gothel blanched. That look was enough to confirm Rampion’s suspicions. “Did I mumble, Father? Or should I even call you that?” 

Father Gothel recovered and laughed. “Rampion, honestly, why would you even ask such a ridiculous question? Can you even hear yourself right now? It’s crazy.”

Rampion pulled away from him as Father Gothel made to put his hands on his shoulders. “Don’t touch me!” If the phrase “his dander’s up” meant that he was furious, then that was exactly the situation. “It was you all along! You kidnapped me! You must have done! Just for my hair?” Feeling the strand that was cut, he added “I’ll even bet you’re the one who tried to cut it in the first place!”

Father Gothel’s face darkened. “Everything I did, I did for you.”

Rampion pushed past him, running down the stairs. “I spent my entire life hiding from the outside world, when I really should have been hiding from YOU! It was all a lie; my entire life! And then just when I found one degree of happiness, you just HAD to snatch that away from me too!”

Father Gothel glared at him. “You honestly thought that she wanted you? You stupid, naive boy!”

“I knew she couldn’t have sold me out, not really!” Rampion whirled to face him. “What did you do to her?” 

Father Gothel smirked. “I simply saw that justice was done. That thief will be hanged for her crimes once she’s captured.”

Rampion felt his heart race. “No! They can’t!” He realised what he had to do and ran towards the window. 

“Where are you going?” snarled Father Gothel, following him. 

“To save her!” 

Rampion was brought up short as Father Gothel yanked him back by the hair. “Get off me!” Rampion gave a harder yank that sent Father Gothel flying backwards into the mirror. The thing toppled to the ground and shattered in a smattering of glass. Rampion glared at him. “I am NEVER going to let you use my hair ever again! I’m going to rescue Flicka! I’m going to go back home! And we are going to live happily ever after!”

Father Gothel’s expression darkened. “You want me to be the bad guy. Fine. NOW I’m the bad guy.”

Meanwhile, as morning broke over the kingdom of Haelwen, Flicka blinked in the light and raised her head. “O-W!” She made to rub her head and then realised that someone had lashed her hands to a steering wheel. “What the-?”

She looked around as the realisation of what must have happened hit her. After the Stabbington Sisters had knocked her out, they had tied her upright to the wheel to make it look like she was steering a boat and then set it adrift towards the kingdom. With a sinking heart, Flicka realised that they had also draped the satchel over her shoulder, and judging by the weight of it, the crown was still in it. 

“Right,” Flicka muttered, wriggling her wrists free of the coarse ropes and rubbing the burns. “I’ll give them what for; you see if I don’t.” And then, she remembered who was no longer with her. Whipping her head back towards the direction she had come in, she felt her heart race in terror. “Oh, my God! Rampion!” 

They must, she realised, have somehow realised what power his hair had; perhaps they have been following them and had observed its healing powers when he had healed her hand. Running to the stern, she checked the wind direction. It was blowing the opposite way that she needed. Still, she would have to fight it somehow. 

She had just picked up the nearest sail rope when a voice exclaimed “Not so fast, you!”

Flicka looked up to see several palace guards pointing their swords at her. The boat had carried her right back to the dock. “Gentlemen!” she exclaimed, trying to sound braver than she felt. “To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?”

“Frisk her, boys,” commanded the Captain. 

“No, wait!” Flicka held out the satchel to them. “Here, you can have it. I’m done with that malarkey.” The Captain took the satchel and pulled out the crown. “Now, if you’ll excuse me-” Flicka began. 

“Take her,” the Captain commanded. 

“No, wait! Stop!” Flicka backed off as they leapt into the boat and two of them grabbed her arms. She tried to wriggle free but they were holding her far too firmly. Struggling, she looked up at the Captain. “You’re making a huge mistake! My friend needs help!”

“Sure she does,” humoured the Captain as she was dragged onto the dock. “And let me guess, you need to run to her aid instantly?”

“It’s a “he” actually!” Flicka retorted. “Look, he’s just a kid, not at all streetwise-!”

“Whereas you, on the other hand, Miss Ryder, are wanted for a very serious theft,” the Captain cut in, smoothly. 

“I know, but-” Flicka tried to wriggle free again, but to no avail. “Look, can’t you just save the arresting for now and catch me later? Just right now I really need to help the man I-” 

Flicka broke off. The man I...what? What was the end of that sentence meant to be? She had an awful feeling she knew.

“I’ve heard enough,” sighed the Captain, holding up a pair of shackles. “Lock her up, boys. Her fate will be decided later...although the punishment for such a wicked crime is generally...”

He broke off with a devilish smile. 

“Generally what?” asked Flicka as the shackles were clapped on.

The Captain smirked at her. “Death. Take her, lads.”


	6. The Heart Never Lies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story of Rapunzel takes a genderbend twist! The evil warlock Gothel wants to stay young forever, using a magical rampion plant, however when the plant is cultivated and fed to the pregnant Queen, Gothel knows that the new prince has the power he needs. So, he does the obvious thing and steals the baby!
> 
> Eighteen years onwards, young streetwise Flicka Ryder climbs up a tower to escape the Stabbington Sisters, only to meet Rampion, a prince whose hair has never been cut; and the two find themselves on a whirlwind adventure!

Her protests falling on deaf ears, Flicka found herself thrust into a cold cell. The second she regained her balance, of course, she flung herself at the door and began to hammer at it. “No!” she yelped. “You’ve got to listen to me! He needs my help!”

It was no good, she realised; they didn’t care. With an angry sigh, she leaned against the door. Rampion must have thought that she’d abandoned him on purpose, and, more than that, there was no knowing what the Stabbington Sisters would do with him now they knew about his powers. She had to rescue him at all costs. 

Looking around her cell, Flicka tried to formulate some kind of escape plan but try as she might, she just couldn’t. “I can’t think of anything,” she muttered, running a hand through her fringe. “Why can’t I think of anything?”

She knew why. She was flustered. And she was flustered because of Rampion. 

“Oh, bullfrogs!” she sighed. “What a time to go and-!”

Before she could finish the sentence, she heard the sound of talking from outside her cell. Two guards were standing aloft, obviously there to bar any escape attempt. Flicka couldn’t help scoffing inwardly. Like she’d be as stupid as to try to escape through the door. 

“So, she’s going to hang?”

“More than likely. You know what happens to people who try to steal the Prince’s crown.”

“Yeah,” sighed the first. “Poor King and Queen. Think they’ll ever find their son again?”

“I doubt it. They’ve been sending up the lanterns for the last eighteen years. If you ask me, whoever kidnapped him isn’t going to give him back.”

Flicka frowned. Eighteen years? Why did that sound familiar? Wait! 

She gave a sharp rap on the door. “Why do they let up the Floating Lights on a certain day every year? Tell me!”

“What’s it to you?” grunted one of the guards.

“What’s so special about that day? Is it the day the Prince was kidnapped? Tell me!” she demanded. 

“No, actually,” began the other, in a more cordial tone, “they’re let up on the Prince’s birthday-”

“Shut up! She’s just after the attention,” snapped the other. 

Flicka’s breath caught in her throat. Eighteen years ago a prince had been kidnapped. In the middle of the woods, in a tower that was un-climbable without a rope, a young man was kept locked away from the rest of the world...an eighteen year old man! And the Floating Lights were released on his birthday!

She hammered on the door again. “You have to let me out of here! The Prince is in danger!”

“Forget it!” grunted the second guard. “We’re not falling for that one!”

“I’m serious! I know how to find him!” 

“I said, forget it!”

Flicka let out a noise somewhere between a groan and a sigh. “Why do you have to be stubborn?” Then she remembered that Rampion had said that to her, straight after she had said it to him. She looked around the room again. There had to be a way of getting out. She tried the bars on the window. They were solid and there was no way of squeezing through them. She tried the walls, feeling for a loose brick, but finding none. If only there was something in the room that she could use to subdue the guards with once the door was open, but there was nothing, not even a stool. The best she could hope for was some miracle before she was taken to the gallows.

Flicka slid down the wall and shuddered. The gallows. Never before in her life had she been so terrified of death. “Get it together, girl,” she muttered. “You’re not going to die!”

Even as she said it, the door of the cell swung open and the two guards who had been, well, for want of a better term, guarding her, came in. One of them carried a length of rope in his hands. “It’s time,” he informed her. 

Flicka got uneasily to her feet and as they lashed her hands together, she glanced at the doorway. If she was quick...she could make that. 

“Sorry about this, gentlemen,” she said, and then she slammed hard into the nearest one, knocking him to the floor. As the other one made to grab her, she brought up both fists and hit him down. Leaping over the first one, she hurtled through the door, seized hold of the handle and slammed it shut on them, locking them in. Now she just had to find her way out of this place. 

Running down the corridor, she was brought up short by a startled yelp of “Ryder!” Skididng to a halt, she blinked at the sight of the Stabbington Sisters sitting on the floor of a cage-like cell. Recovering, she darted towards them, seized the one with the eyepatch by her collar and yanked her as close to the bars as she could get. “How did you know about Rampion? Tell me!”

“I-it wasn’t us!” stammered the Sister. “It was the old man!”

“Old man?”

“Yeah, he told us about the kid’s powers! Said he’d reward us if we got him the kid. Only then he betrayed us both!” the second Sister grumbled. 

Heart racing, Flicka knew instantly who the old man must have been. “Rampion’s father...adopted father!” She released the first Sister just as a voice down the corridor exclaimed “Hey, she’s escaping!”

Flicka turned her head to see three guards running behind her. “Bullfrogs!” she exclaimed, turning and hurrying away from them as fast as she could. It was be far easier if only her hands weren’t tied in front of her. 

“Oh, no!” Flicka groaned, reaching a door at the end of the corridor that was bolted. She tried tugging but it didn’t budge. Turning, she saw the guards advancing on her...when a frying pan came out of a corridor further down the wall and whacked the nearest one. Flicka frowned and the two remaining guards looked about them. Suddenly, the second was yanked into the air by a hook. Then the remaining one was seized by a pair of gloved hands and yanked through a door. 

Flicka looked around and grinned as Attila, still holding the frying pan, stepped into the light. “Frying pans! Who knew, right?”

Hook Hand leapt down from the ceiling and Vladimir came out of the other room, both grinning all over their faces. As Attila quickly cut her free, however, more guards came charging towards them. The four of them turned and fled down the corridor Attila had been hiding in. There, they were met by Ulf, who distracted the guards momentarily with his mime act whilst Vladimir charged them down like a rampaging bull. They hurried into the courtyard, only to find yet more guards running towards them. 

“How many guards do they need in this place?” Flicka exclaimed, backing, without realising, onto the back of a titled wheelbarrow. 

“Head down,” instructed Hook Hand, at her side. Flicka did what she was told. “Arms in. Knees apart.”

Flicka glanced at him. “Why knees apart?”

In answer, Vladimir leapt onto the other end of the wheelbarrow. It went like a see-saw, catapulting Flicka up into the air with a startled scream...and then, to her surprise, she landed on a horse’s back. “Ok, do not want to do that again!” Then she spotted which horse it was. “Maxine?”

Maxine nodded, gallantly proud. Flicka understood. “You brought them here?” Maxine nodded. Flicka was touched. “Thank you. You know, maybe we just got off to a bad start before, and now-” Maxine put her ears down in disapproval. “Yeah, you’re right. There’s time for that later.” Flicka seized the reins and as Maxine charged along the battlements, she added “I did always want a horse, though.”

With bolts from crossbows flying all around them, they rode along the battlement until they reached the end and Flicka gulped. There was a sheer drop there. “Maxine!” she exclaimed, seizing the reins, but the horse kept on going and then she took a great, flying leap, sliding down roof tiles and landing neatly in the middle of the street. Flicka panted. “You are one crazy horse! In a good way,” she added as Maxine gave a resentful snort. Flicka took the reins again and urged her forwards. “We need to get to that tower. Remember? The one where you thought you’d lost me?”

Maxine nodded and they rode off, through the forest, past mile after mile until they reached the clearing where the tower was situated. Flicka leapt from Maxine’s back and ran to the tower. “Rampion? Rampion!”

Inside the tower, Father Gothel stiffened. “She’s still alive?” He scowled. “No matter.” He seized a handful of Rampion’s hair and tossed it down out of the window. Relieved, Flicka climbed all the way up. “Thank God,” she exclaimed, scrambling through the window. “I thought that-”

She broke off. Rampion was kneeling in a corner, bound by chains and gagged. Flicka threw herself down beside him as he yelled muffled cries at her. She quickly removed his gag. “Sorry, what?”

“RUN!” exclaimed Rampion and Flicka turned her head in time to see Father Gothel step out of the shadows. 

“Looks like you’re smarter than I thought after all,” he sneered. 

Flicka got to her feet and, from the pouch at her belt, drew out a small dagger. “I’m not afraid of you,” she whispered, even though a part of her was. 

“You should be.” Father Gothel stepped around her, backing her towards the stairs. Flicka glanced around the room. The mirror was broken and shards of glass were littering the floor. Rampion’s hair was hanging down from a beam above the bottom step. 

“Leave her alone!” Rampion shouted. 

“She can’t be allowed to live now that she knows our secret!” Father Gothel retorted. 

“All you want is his hair, isn’t it?” Flicka said. “You want to be young forever; but you can’t just kidnap a kid and then keep him locked away forever just for your own gains!”

“Can’t I?”

“No. Because I’m not going to let you!”

Leaping for the strand of Rampion’s hair, Flicka swung herself back and then kicked out at Father Gothel with both feet. He stumbled backwards and landed on his back, amid the shards of glass on the floor. Flicka leapt down, neatly, onto the step and then hurried towards Rampion. “Let’s get out of here.”

Rampion let out a sigh of relief. “I thought I’d never see you again.”

Attempting to pick the lock on the chains with her dagger, Flicka met his eyes. “I didn’t betray you. You have to know that. I wouldn’t.”

“No, I know that now.” Rampion smiled at her. Trying not to get too distracted, Flicka glanced down at the lock. “Oh, come on. I can do this. Nearly got it...”

“Flicka!” Rampion yelped, suddenly. 

“Huh?” Flicka looked up and then felt herself dragged backwards as Father Gothel seized hold of her. Dropping her dagger, she struggled in his grip and then realised he was pressing the tip of his own knife against her ribs.

“No!” exclaimed Rampion, struggling to his feet. “Let her go!”

“Get back against the wall!” Father Gothel ordered him. “Or she dies.”

Flicka glanced at him. “Don’t do it, Rampion! You don’t have to do what he says!”

“Silence!” Father Gothel hissed, pressing the knife closer against her. “Well, son, what’s it to be?”

Rampion immediately backed against the wall. Father Gothel smirked...and then stabbed Flicka. She let out a sound somewhere between a cry and a gasp of pain. “NO!” Rampion shouted as she slipped to the floor, clutching her side. 

“Time to go,” smirked Father Gothel, seizing hold of him.

“No!” Rampion tried to fight back. “If you take me now, I will never stop fighting you! I will spend the rest of my life trying to get away from you and in the end you’ll be forced to kill me too! But if you let me heal Flicka, right now, then I’ll go with you obediently. I’ll do anything you want me to do. I swear. Just let me save her.”

“No,” gasped Flicka. 

Father Gothel smiled. “You promise you won’t run if I let you do this?”

“Yes! I promise! Just let me heal her!”

Father Gothel nodded. “Very well. But if she tries to follow us at all, next time I will show no mercy and she will die.”

He unfastened Rampion’s chains and Rampion flung himself down beside Flicka. Pulling her across his lap, he cradled her, softly. Flicka shook her head at him. “You don’t have to do this.”

“Yes, I do.”

“No, you don’t. I can’t let you be his prisoner for the rest of your life.”

“And I can’t watch you die.”

Flicka reached up, with both hands, and brushed his hair out of his eyes. “I’m not giving you that choice.”

Then, in one swift movement, she used the mirror shard she had been concealing to cut his hair short. “Flicka!” Rampion exclaimed, catching hold of the strands as they fell, turning a rich, chocolate brown and losing their power. “No!”

“NO!” bellowed Father Gothel, seizing the hair even as it changed before his eyes. “What have you done?”

In an instant, he was aging rapidly before their eyes and, as he stumbled backwards, Pascale used the now useless strands of Rampion’s hair to trip him. Father Gothel fell out of the tower window, aging to death before he even hit the ground. 

Breathing heavily, Rampion stared at Flicka and then, catching her hand, pressed it to the top of his head. “No, it can still work. Flower, gleam and glow, let your power shine-” 

Flicka managed a shaky smile. “It’s not going to work, Rampion, we both know that.”

Dropping her hand from his newly brown hair, Rampion looked into her eyes. “Flicka, why did you do that?”

Flicka met his gaze. “Because I love you.”

Rampion felt his heart racing. “I love you too.”

Leanign down, he kissed her forehead. Flicka shifted slightly in the arms, trying to ignore the pain in her side. “You know what I said about dreams not coming true?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, I was wrong.” She looked up at him. “Mine did.”

Rampion watched her eyes flutter shut and felt her go limp in his arms. “No!” Fighting back tears, he held her close, trying to rouse life back into her. “No, Flicka, please. Don’t leave me.” Burying his face in her shoulder, began to sing, feeling tears fall as he did so. “Flower, gleam and glow, let your power shine. Make the clock reverse, bring back what once was mine. Heal what has been hurt, change the fate’s design. Save what has been lost, bring back what once was mine...what once was mine.”

A small glow from somewhere suddenly made him open his eyes. His tears were spilling into Flicka’s shoulder, glowing golden, like his hair once had, as they melted through her flesh and the glow travelled downwards towards the wound in her side. Rampion raised his head, watching as suddenly, the wound began to glow, and then knit and heal itself. Even her tunic repaired itself, and then the glow died. Rampion blinked and then Flicka opened her eyes. Raising herself up on her hands, she felt the place where the wound had been and then looked at him, in a mixture of confusion and pure happiness. “Something you need to tell me?”

With a laugh of joy, Rampion grabbed her in a fierce hug. “I thought I’d lost you!” Then, rapidly, he kissed her and Flicka, holding him close, returned it. Finally breaking away from him, she murmured “Rampion, there’s something you need to know.” Taking a deep breath, she said it “You’re the Lost Prince.”

Rampion nodded. “I know. I figured it out earlier.”

He got to his feet, pulling her up with him. Flicka looked at him. “Well, you’re royalty...and I’m just...an orphaned thief.”

Rampion smiled and cupped her cheek. “You’re also the girl who saved my life.”

Flicka frowned. “No, you saved my life, just now.”

“But you saved me a long time ago. You showed me what I was missing. And you found me. I think my parents can let you off stealing for that.” 

Flicka smiled and allowed him to kiss her again. “Come on, then, let’s see if you’re right.”

Using the cut hair as a rope, the two of them, with Pascale, climbed down the tower where Maxine was waiting for them. Rampion was delighted to see her again and gave her a massive hug, which was greatly appreciated. Then, he helped Flicka up into the saddle. “So, how did you figure out I was the Prince, then?”

Flicka smiled as he hoisted himself up in front of her. “A combination of guards gossip and my own common sense, my love.”

Rampion grinned and as Flicka wrapped her arms around him, he urged Maxine onwards. “Come on, girl, let’s go home.” 

“Are you talking to me, or her?” Flicka couldn’t help asking as they set off.

Rampion laughed. “Both!”


	7. Happily Ever After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story of Rapunzel takes a genderbend twist! The evil warlock Gothel wants to stay young forever, using a magical rampion plant, however when the plant is cultivated and fed to the pregnant Queen, Gothel knows that the new prince has the power he needs. So, he does the obvious thing and steals the baby!
> 
> Eighteen years onwards, young streetwise Flicka Ryder climbs up a tower to escape the Stabbington Sisters, only to meet Rampion, a prince whose hair has never been cut; and the two find themselves on a whirlwind adventure!

When they reached the palace, of course, the first thing that happened was that the guards recognised Flicka. “Grab her!” one exclaimed, and they started forwards.

Flicka clung onto Rampion, who turned to address the guard in question. “You will kindly leave her alone!”

The guard laughed. “Who are you to order us around, mate?”

Flicka smiled. “He’s the Lost Prince.”

The guard’s smile vanished. Rampion nodded. “What she said. And as Prince, I order that you leave her alone.”

The guard shook his head. “Can’t be.”

The Captain of the Guards, however, looked up at the young man, studying his face and then nodded, slowly. “I see it. The look of the King.” He ordered his men to attention and then bowed to Rampion. “Your Highness, may I say Welcome Home, and will you allow my guards to personally escort you and your...young lady to the King and Queen’s chambers?”

“Thank you, good sir,” Rampion replied as the guards lined up and led the way for Maxine to follow them. 

“Well, I think you’re doing a good job of prince-ing, so far,” Flicka murmured, kissing his cheek. 

Rampion smiled and then realised just how nervous he was. The guards led them to a staircase which led to an upstairs outdoor balcony. Rampion dismounted and then helped Flicka down. The Captain of the Guards led the way up the stairs and requested politely that they wait on the balcony whilst he brought the King and Queen. Once he was gone, Rampion leaned against the balcony. “This is it,” he murmured. “After eighteen years...what do I even say?”

Flicka glanced at him. “Hey, you’ll be fine. They’re your parents, remember?”

Rampion turned away, looking down over the stretch of the kingdom. “It’s just...eighteen years apart. We should have been together all that time...”

Flicka leaned against him, soothingly rubbing his shoulder. “I know,” she murmured. “But now you’ll be able to spend the rest of your life with them.”

Rampion glanced at her. “And you.”

Flicka smiled. “Yes, I’ll be there too.”

Rampion pulled her into his arms for a hug. “Look at me,” he said, finally holding her at arm’s length, “I can go through being chased by soldiers, almost drowning, being captured and nearly losing the woman I love, and yet now I’m shaking?”

Flicka took his hands. “Like I said, it’ll be fine.”

As she said it, the doors behind them suddenly opened and the both turned to see the King and Queen of Haelwen staring at them. 

For a second they all stood, staring at one another. Rampion seemed frozen to the spot. Then, feeling inclined to do so, Flicka gave him a gentle prod forwards with two fingers in the small of his back. Rampion roused himself and took several steps forward. Then, the Queen walked slowly and hesitantly towards them, unable to believe that it was their son that stood before them at long last. Rampion looked up at her, the face he had suddenly remembered from his childhood hadn’t changed a bit. Slowly, his mother reached out, touched his cheek, and then, convinced that he was real, smiled a tearful smile, which Rampion returned. The Queen hugged him. Rampion glanced at his father, who gave a relieved chuckle, and then also hugged his son. Together the family sank to the floor, holding onto one another. 

Flicka, outside of the family, felt a little emotional herself at the reunion, and was able to stem her tears by thinking to herself that Rampion got his green eyes from his father. Then, the Queen looked up at her and offered her hand. Flicka took it...and then, with a yelp of “Whoa!” found herself unexpectedly pulled into the hug as well. Rampion smiled. The Captain of the Guards and some of his men came onto the balcony and all saluted the foursome in respect. 

Then, the one who had challenged Rampion over his authority seconds ago, cleared his throat. The four of them looked up at him in surprise. He bowed, apologetically. 

“Begging your pardon, Majesties, but I must ask what is to be done with this young woman.” He gestured to Flicka. 

The Royal Family straightened up and Flicka felt her heart sinking. “Whatever do you mean?” demanded the King. 

“Young Flicka Ryder here,” the Captain cut in, “was previously under arrest for theft; stealing the Prince’s crown to be precise.”

“I was going to give it back,” Flicka insisted. “Wait, what am I saying? I did give it back. I gave it back to you.”

“That you did,” the Captain agreed, “but does that mean you are now pardoned?” His eyes swivelled to the King. The guard who had spoken up looked hopeful that an arrest might still be made. 

“And where is my son’s crown now?” asked the King.

“Back in the Treasury where it belongs, your Majesty.”

The King nodded. “Then, in light of this, and given the fact that she has brought our son back home, safe and sound, I decree that she is pardoned of all crimes.”

Flicka gave a smile of relief as Rampion took her hand. The guard looked disappointed. The Captain bowed to the King. “As you wish it, your Majesty.”

The guards left, and Flicka turned to the King. “Thank you, your Majesty.”

The Queen smiled and took her hands. “It is us who should be thanking you, Miss Ryder. You found our son. Thank you.” And then she gave Flicka a hug. Flicka was surprised, but she returned it, thankful that she’d been accepted for the first time in a long time. 

“Tonight is a night for celebrations and forgiveness,” the King declared, putting his arm around Rampion’s shoulder. 

The Queen put her arms around both Rampion and Flicka’s shoulders and together the four of them walked back into the palace. Flicka felt slightly giddy as she was invited to sit down, in a rather lavish chair too, and then she and Rampion told their tale, butting in with each other every so often, and the King and Queen listened, both rapt and relieved that they had come through such trials. 

“And that caused Father Gothel to age to death,” Rampion said, finally, “after Pascale here,” for Pascale was still sitting on his shoulder, “knocked him out of the window.” Pascale nodded and then crawled down his arm to sit, surprisingly, on Flicka’s shoulder now. “And Flicka was dying-”

“But Rampion brought me back to life, with his tears,” Flicka finished. “Whatever magic was in his hair still flows in him.”

The King smiled. “I can tell you that now. You see, just before you were born, your mother became ill and the only thing that could cure her was a magical rampion plant that had incredible healing powers.”

“After I was healed by it, the magic must have passed in you,” the Queen finished. 

“So that’s why you called me Rampion, then?”

Flicka frowned. “Funny; I always thought that was a kind of lettuce.” Rampion glanced at her, and she added hurriedly, “Not that I’m saying it suits you or anything...”

Everyone laughed, and even Pascale looked amused.

***

“So, that’s the end of that story; happily ever after all around. The people of Haelwen were overjoyed that the Lost Prince had finally returned. The celebration lasted an entire week, and to be perfectly frank, I don’t actually remember much about it. It all happened so fast. But what I can tell you is this: for all I ever said about dreams, it seemed like everyone’s dream came true in the end.

“Hook Hand, he went on to become the greatest concert pianist ever known.

“Big Nose, he finally found true love! Come on now, everyone say “AW!”

“AW!”

“Attila, he opened up his own bakery after all; and you’ve never tasted a better loaf or cake in your life, believe me.

“Vladimir, well, he completed his ceramic unicorn collection. Now he’s having to build a bigger house to keep them all in.

“Ulf, well, he’s still a mime, and I assume he’s happy. I mean, he’s never told me otherwise. 

“Maxine, well, she’s living a double life; as commander of the Royal Army, and my personal steed. Oh, and now because of her, they’ve even taken up wielding frying pans. No, really.

“Pascale, well, she’s never changed.

“As for the King and Queen, well, they always dreamed that their son would return, and now he has. 

“And Rampion’s finally got the life he always dreamed of and a real family too.

“As for me, well, I gave up thieving; because I found something a little more thrilling and exciting than that. And I know what you’re wondering; are Rampion and I ever going to get married? Well, I can tell you that after months and months of asking and asking and asking...he finally said yes.”

“Flicka!”

Flicka glanced up at Rampion and laughed. “Alright, alright; he asked me.”

Rampion crouched down beside the children that Flicka was relating the story back to. “And we’re going to live happily ever after.”

“Well, here’s hoping,” Flicka smiled. 

Rampion straightened up. “What? You don’t believe we’re going to?”

“No, I do. I just can’t imagine it’ll run smoothly,” Flicka draped her arms around his neck and smiled up at him, “Kinda like always.”

“But did your dream come true?” One of the children, a young girl, tugged at Flicka’s tunic. “You said you always dreamed of having a family too; did that come true?”

Flicka smiled. “Well, yes it did. The day I met Rampion, it came true.” She looked at him. “You, Maxine and Pascale; that’s all the family I need.”

Rampion grinned. "And that's where the story ends."

"So you did say yes, then?" the girl asked.

"Oh, yes," smiled Flicka. "If only to stop him from nagging me." And then she laughed as Rampion spun her about in his arms and kissed her. 


End file.
